


flags

by euriele



Category: Red vs. Blue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 10:35:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2021862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/euriele/pseuds/euriele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carolina used to collect flags.</p>
            </blockquote>





	flags

You collect flags.

Most kids have some kind of hobby or little collection in their rooms. The girl across the street has the biggest collection of Hot Wheels in the neighbourhood; the boy next door has one of each and every bug. The little girl from the other next door is a magpie and has a collection of crystals and metals and broken jewellery that she’s found in the streets. You’ve heard a few kids mocking a boy’s collection of stamps, seen another girl holding comic book trading cards.

You collect flags.

To be honest, it’s a very weird thing to collect. Most kids would say Care Bears or toy soldiers when asked what they collect. You say flags, get a few strange looks from family members and friends of your parents. Your mother laughs, ruffles your hair and says it’s an impressive collection.

Your friends don’t think so. You bring Erin from your first grade class home one day, chatter away about your collection that your mom called ‘impressive’. You don’t tell her what you collect though, to savour the excitement.

She looks at the flags pinned to the cork-board - the 56 Earth country flags and the Red and Blue army flags (that mom got from work for you) and the flags of several colonies - and says it’s a dumb collection.

Needless to say you’re not friends with Erin any more.

You thought her collection of My Little Pony figurines were dumb any way.

*

When David is born, these are the flags you have:

102 Earth country flags; Red and Blue armies; 14 colony flags; 13 US state flags and a flag that bears the emblem and motto of yours and your mother’s hockey team (the Texas Tornadoes). For a seven year old, it’s a damn impressive collection.

Your father takes you to the hospital where your mother is. The first flag you were ever given - the Texas state flag - is scrunched up in your hand. When you see your little brother, bundled up in blankets in your mother’s arms, you tuck the flag into the folds of his blankets.

"He can start collecting too," you say. Your mom smiles.

*

You’re twelve when a flag comes home instead of your mother.

It comes back with a boxful of her possessions. You think she’s sending you another flag - like the silly twelve year old you are. It’s a UNSC flag, one you’ve never had before. Your mother told you once that they don’t sell UNSC flags, that they’re only given to the family members of soldiers who die.

Your mother was a Marine.

You connect the dots.

*

The UNSC flag is the last one you add to your collection.

It doesn’t feel right without your mother.

*

"You still have these?"

You glance over your shoulder at Wash. He’s staring at the wall above your bed, at the dozens of flags you taped to the metal. There wasn’t enough room for them on the wall - you only managed to fit 55 of your 202 flags on the wall; the rest sit in a box at the bottom of your closet.

Wash runs a hand across the wall. You name the flags he touches -  _Reach, Bolivia, India, Tribute, Skopje, Nepal._  He comes to a stop besides the fading Texas Tornadoes flag.

"You still keep up with the Tornadoes?" he asks, sinking down onto your bed, eyes on the flag.

"Not really," you shrug, sitting down on the opposite side of the bed. You stare at the flag, the fading yellow colour and the tattered edges. "Not since I got here, at least."

He nods. He understands it’s hard to keep up with ice hockey when you’re fighting for your life on an almost daily basis.

"You don’t collect these anymore."

It’s a statement, not a question.

"Nope." Pop the ‘p’.

"Because of mom?"

"Yep." Don’t pop the ‘p’.

Wash nods and reaches into the pocket of his sweatpants. He pulls out a ball of red, white and blue fabric. When he unfolds it, you see it’s that Texas state flag you gave him twenty-three years ago.

You smile.

There might be tears in your eyes.

*

Wash gives you that battered flag years later, before you go after your father.

You place it on the desk beside the Director’s elbow and rest the pistol on top of it.

*

"Everything’s so fucked now."

He nods, stares at the unfamiliar stares above your heads. You follow suit. Try and name the stars; find that you can’t, that they’re too different to the ones back home and that you can’t make out any of the constellations you could name back home.

"Between Felix, Locus, their boss and this civil war, yeah," Wash sighs, rubbing his eyes. "Things are pretty fucked."

A smile breaks across his face. “But -“

He holds an orange piece of translucent cloth up to you. You see the insignia of the Federal Army of Chorus emblazoned on the orange fabric.

It’s a flag, you realize too late.

Don’t fight your laughter.

*

When Felix kills your brother, they cover his coffin with the flag of Chorus.

You tie that Federal Army flag around your wrist.

Never take it off.

**Author's Note:**

> for tumblr user doomedanyway
> 
> follow me on tumblr: ohgrif.tumblr.com


End file.
